Ch-Ch-Changes
by TheHolyMango
Summary: AU Harry Potter has grown up with David Bowie as an idol, and he's got his heart dead set on growing up to be a rockstar, not a Wizarding Super-Soldier! Rated T for homophobic language, occasional swearing. Slash- don't like it, don't click the link. Title from Changes by David Bowie
1. Chapter 1

The sky was dark and the trees skeletons as a long haired boy (or was it a girl?) sat at the side of the road, next to a streetlight, outside, what was, at a guess, their primary school. The androgynous figure was dressed in a grey, beat up old t-shirt and a pair of washed out blue jeans, with ancient looking red braces holding them up, clothes completely unsuited to the freezing night weather. The child's black head was bent over a tattered school exercise book, nodding along to a tune blaring out of his headphones, and he was scribbling away with a passion which did not suggest school work. Occasionally the child would stop, and murmur over the words, his pen working furiously as he edited. Apart from his faint whispering, and the hum of the street lights, the road was deafeningly silent, the eerie quietness of a school after the children and energy has gone, to make way for the evening, then night.

The boy was called Harry, and this was, indeed, his school. His family, a frankly vile bunch, had neglected to pick him up after school, as his cousin Dudley was staying over at a friends house tonight, and so his Uncle Vernon had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was to get himself home. "Why should we waste precious fuel on you, poof? You can walk your freaky self home, or better yet, don't come back at all!" His Uncle Vernon was a dick, in Harry's opinion. However, being left at school did leave Harry with the chance to listen to his tapes on his Walkman, which he had stole off Dudley, after the oaf had chucked it at a wall and proclaimed it broken. 'Honestly', thought Harry, with a roll of his eyes. 'It only needed the battery putting back in.' The Walkman had certainly been Harry's greatest find- it meant he could listen to music whenever the Dursley's weren't around, and he could find refuge in his favourite singers, which he usually only heard when they were played on the radio station his uncle listened to, which was very infrequently, as Harry tended to listen to Bowie, who's music was switched off unerringly every time it came on. Uncle Vernon called him a poof, and his Aunt always pulled a face as he said that. Bowie was Harry's idol, but when Harry protested against him being turned off, Uncle Vernon gave him a clout around the head and sneered, telling Harry he was a fag. Harry didn't really get what was wrong with that- in fact, he tried to emulate Bowie as much as he could. He would borrow the girls nail polish (they were happy to experiment on any boy), grow out his hair and give cryptic answers to questions which didn't always make sense, but nearly always contained a song lyric or two. Yes, Harry Potter was mostly ok with being left alone, even is it was on his 11th birthday.


	2. Dance Magic

2 hours later, and Harry Potter was sleeping, slumped over his notebook protectively. Music was still blaring loudly out of his headphones, though they had slipped down, and were now hanging awkwardly around his neck. There had been no sign of his Aunt or Uncle, and he slumbered on fairly peacefully, undisturbed. Then, a sharp crack. A figure, flowing and blending with the night, dressed all in black, stepped out of the shadows, where he had most certainly not been before. He was proceeded by an elegant tabby cat, who had odd shaped black markings around its face, reminiscent of how glasses would lie. They looked around quickly and strode off in one direction. Two minutes later, and they were back, this time looking confused, and walking off in the other direction. They crossed over the road, not looking as they walked over it, with either arrogance or a complete ignorance of how a road worked. The cat went to jump up onto the curb, when, all of a sudden, it locked eyes with the boy they had not noticed before, sleeping on the pavement. The cat let out a strangled yelp of surprise, and fell backwards, garnering the attention of the tall, vampiric man and waking the snoring figure. The cloaked man looked around, and saw green eyes staring back at him.

The man blinked, slowly, and green eyes blinked back. The owner of the curse coloured eyes moved his head to the side, and started to stiffly get up out of the heap he was lying in.

"Hello Sir" acknowledged Harry first, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, a and looking too drowsy to be confused. He had an unusual voice, a soft lilt with sharp vowels "Can I help you?" Harry looked the dark figure up and down. He was dressed, for lack of a better word, weirdly, in something almost resembling a dress, but a dress with little shape and odd bits hanging off. In fact, it looked closer to a bathrobe, thought Harry, stifling a smirk. 'No, don't be mean, Mr Potter' he chastised himself. The man didn't look normal, but then, who was Harry to judge normal? God knows he was the oddest kid he knew. Other than the bathrobe, the man looked fairly ordinary. With black, lank hair and a long nose, there was nothing extraordinary about his face, though with the moon behind him just so, he looked like a bat, Harry noted. Mentally giggling, Harry looked back at the still silent man.

'Well come on' Harry whispered. 'Say hello to the lunatic men'

Mr. Bat seemed to catch that, and broke out of his trance. "Good evening, young man." The Bat drawled, in a way that screamed sarcasm. "What on earth is a boy your age doing out at this time of night?"

Oh, shit. Harry's mind woke up pretty quickly at that- there wasn't really a plausible reason, past the fact he wanted to stay out to write his lyrics and listen to music in peace. And, of course, his guardians would have likely hit him if he came home tonight. Harry's Aunt didn't like Vernon hitting Harry when Dudley was around- because when Dudley was around, it was Dudley who needed attention, not the freak.

"Well.." He began, stalling for time. "I..um.."

The man sneered, and said "I presume you are competent enough to give an address?"

"Sir? Who's address?"

The Bat raised an eyebrow, and sneered. "Yours, preferably."

Well damn. Night over. The Dursley's would kill him when he got back, but Harry was a truly terrible liar- there was no way he could bluff his way past this man. "Number 4".

The man, who had been turning around to go, whipped back around sharply to face Harry. A cat, who had been standing behind the Bat, also turned to stare at Harry.

"You are... Harry Potter?" The Bat's voice had taken on a strangled tone.

"Yes." Harry frowned. "How do you know my name? Who are you? What do you want?" The questions were delivered at the rate of a machine gun, and at the end of them, the young boy looked ready to run.

"My name is Professor Severus Snape. I am a teacher and Head of Slytherin at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, but you will know all about that, won't you Potter?" The last word was spat out with so much venom, Harry was surprised his plastic coated Walkman

didn't melt.

"Um... no sir, I don't. I'm a wizard? And what is Hogwarts?"

Snape looked incredulously at Harry. "You mean to tell me that you, Harry Potter, don't know about the Wizarding World? That you don't know you are a wizard?"

"The only wizards I know are Bowie, Mercury and Iggy. To be perfectly honest, I think you are completely mad."

"Who?"

"Bowie? You must have heard of him! Ziggy Stardust and all? He's my idol!"

"He is no wizard. No wizard would take a name like...that. Iggy Moonrock?"

Harry looked the man up and down.

"He's more of a wizard than you are! At least he doesn't look like a freaking bat!" Harry snorted.

Snape frowned, but moved quickly on. "This conversation is both banal and irrelevant. How can you not have known about Magic?"

Something in Snape's attitude riled Harry. "Look, Snake. Snape. Whatever you are called. I can tell you right now that the only magic I know of is the Dance variety, and that was from a film! This conversation is ridiculous, and I want to go to sleep. Goodbye Mr Snape!"

Just as Harry turned to leave, the cat started moving. It ran straight in front of him, and then did the impossible. Where the cat spectacle markings had been standing, there was now a stern, sharp looking woman, with hair brutally pulled back her face, which was full of lines (many of which seemed to have come from frowning). "Mr Potter" the cat turned lady spoke. "You are correct, this conversation is getting ridiculous. You are a wizard, young man". At this point she frowned, and looked him up and down, taking in his androgynous appearance. He had long feathery hair, down to his shoulders and very styled. His features were pointy, rather feminine and he held himself well, unlike most boys his age. His grimy grey T-shirt had 7/1/1978 printed on it, with the face of a man with a cigarette in his mouth above that, and above that the word HEROES. The T-shirt looked tatty, almost falling apart, but cared for. The jeans had seen better days as well; the electric blue they had been when new had faded and at the knees the fabric was nearly white. However, they had maintained their tightness, in fact, they looked rather more like girls jeans than boys. And then there were the braces, the cheap clasps shiny in the moonlight, the red of the elastic loud and garish over his shirt. She could remember when those sort of things were fashionable, and it was not in this era. Glaring at her blatant disapproval, Harry reached up to brush some of his long fringe out of his eyes, and the 2 teachers got their next big shocks. Harry Potter was wearing nail polish, silver painted on neatly. Their saviour was wearing Make-Up, eyeliner and eye-shadow and was that lipstick? Harry Potter was not living up to their expectations so far.

Rolling his painted eyes, Harry decided that it was time to interrupt their horror-fest cause by his, now clear, appearance. "Hello? Can we just back up to where I am a wizard?"

"Of course, Mr Potter" Cat Woman said. "My name is McGonagall, and I am also a Professor at Hogwarts. I taught your parents some years ago, and have been expecting to teach you for a while now. You say you know nothing of Wizardry?"

Dumbly, Harry nodded. Everything was taking a while to sink in, and Harry was not entirely sure he was capable of speech.

"Well then, we will start from the beginning. Have you ever done anything... Unusual?"

At Harry's raised eyebrow (which looked very thin, for a boys) she quickly specified. "Unusual, as in, changed something's colour. Made something float?"

Harry nodded, and found his rather stuck voice "Dudley ripped up my notebook once. I put it back together without tape of glue. You mean stuff like that?"

McGonagall nodded, and quickly continued, explaining how magic could often manifest it's self this way, how it was normal and how Hogwarts could teach you to control this. She then went on to tell Harry All about the magical world, from broomsticks(apparently they could fly!) to the ministry of magic. At the end of her lecture, Harry's head was spinning, and Snape was smirking. "Ok" Harry mumbled. "Ok. This Hogwarts place, do they do music classes?"

Snape let out a bitter laugh. "No. We do have a choir, but that's rather... Traditional for your tastes, I would guess"

"Oh. Do you have rock stars?"

"Yes, Mr Potter, we do. Is that all?"

"Not quite, I'm afraid." Harry tilted his head sideways. "I'm... Famous, in your world?"

"Your world as well Mr Potter" McGonagall smiled at him before continuing. "And yes you are. Legendary, in fact."

Harry frowned, his face creasing up. "But what it-" his voice cracked slightly. "What if I don't want to be famous. For that? Can I... Is there some way I could...If I'm going to be famous, I don't want it to be because a monster killed my parents"

Snape's face had seemed to go through a mixture of emotions at this small speech, and had settled on blank for the moment. McGonagall looked appalled. "Of course not! That is simply not to be do-".

Snape cut her off with a strange look on his face. "There might be a way, at least to avoid the students.." He studied Harry carefully as Harry pulled on his braces, nervously. "Severus!" McGonagall snapped.

"No, Minerva, just listen. If we entered Mr Potter here as Mr Evans, only the teachers will have to know. It may prevent some... Trouble making and ego trips that would have otherwise occurred. We can spread the word that Boy Saviour is training in secret" McGonagall looked thoughtful at this. "There is the scar, of course. And some may still recognise the name... Old friends of Lily..."

"A little make up will cover that up, Merlin knows Potter probably has some. As for the other issue we shall spread the word of no relation. Besides, who will expect our boy-saviour to look like... Look like..."

"A poof, Professor Snape?" Said Harry, a smirk playing across his features.

"Something to that effect, yes." Harry got the feeling that by asking to be entered into Hogwarts as something other than Harry Potter, he had garnered an interest, even respect from Professor Snape. Harry was glad, he seemed like a good man to be fighting in your corner, or, at the very least, not directly against you. Harry was also thankful to Snape for backing him up on the name thing. It didn't sound like a fair thing to be famous for, and if Harry was going to be famous, which he very much planned upon, it was going to be on his terms, for his hard work. He was going to be a musician, after all, he hoped. He didn't really know if he was any good, not having anybody by stars to compare by, and, by the sounds of it, he wouldn't know at Hogwarts either.

And talking of music...

"Professor Snape?"

"What is it, Evans?" He barked. Ah, so the Professor didn't like the name Potter. Interesting.

"I was wondering if there was a... Um.. Way you could get my Walkman to work at Hogwarts. It's just... Um... It means a lot to me."

"Hmph. I will show you tomorrow. For now, you need to go home, and sleep. We will be picking you up at 6.30 am tomorrow, so you must sleep. I do not want to be dealing with tired brats in the morning. We will pick you up from your house, and you are to be sleeping there tonight, do I make myself clear? I will know if you haven't gone home."

"Umm, Yes sir. Sorry sir, but what is the time?"

"It is 2am, Evans. A completely disrespectable time."

Good, thought Harry. Vernon is always asleep by now. He really didn't fancy dealing with him on top of everything else.

Harry walked back to his house, silently opening the door before placing the key back under the flower pot. He sneaked, carefully, on tiptoes, into his cupboard, in which he got change, the cot creaking ominously, and settled down, letting the music from his favourite tape lull him to sleep.

A.N well, there you go. Harry Potter (or should I say Evans?) is going to Hogwarts. What did you think, readers? Ridiculous? Out of character? Please feel free to tell me using the nice little box below. Oh, and if you spot any mistakes, inaccuracies, spelling problems or wrackspurts, please tell me so I can change them. 2 little Bowie things in this chapter, spot them and I'll give you a nargle. Stay well, readers.

THM.


	3. Dancing on the Street

At 6.30 sharp, a strange man stood outside the Dudley residence, and rapped on the door. Any early bird neighbours would have noted the man's distinctively vampire-like attire; he was dressed head to toe in black, a roll neck sweater under a fancy looking blazer, sharply pressed trousers and shoes so polished they reflected the already awake sun. The person who answered the door would look no less strange to the observer; with long hair and make up, extraordinarily tight blue jeans, a black t-shirt with Aladdin Sane and a red and blue garish lightning bolt on, and bright red braces, the young figure could have been a boy or a girl. The two figures would have been seen to converse briefly, and the neighbour might have been able to make out a drawl and another, odd accent, lilting with odd intonations. They would watch as the young one left with the old one, the door closing gently behind the two. The watcher might then run and tell their neighbours what they saw; the strange nephew of Vernon Dudley leaving with a black clad stranger at an ungodly hour in the morning, and it would be all over the street by midday.

Luckily for the Dursley's reputation and social standing, the street they lived on was a lethargic one, and nobody would be out of their house before 9 am, meaning Severus Snape could go very much unnoticed (of course, the notice-me-not charm that he had adapted especially against muggles would have helped as well), and Harry Potter would not be seen leaving with a very strange stranger.

At 6.30, Harry Potter opened the door to see Professor Snape standing outside. The lack of bathrobe had not lessened his likeness to a bat, and the discomfort with which he wore his 'muggle' clothing seemed to make him look almost odder than yesterday to Harry. Knowing just how much his professors had liked it last night, Harry had taken extra long on his make up and nails today, his two fingered salute towards the otherwise (fairly) pleasant teachers. Harry thought it quite funny, and, judging by the slight smirk on Snape's face, he knew exactly what Harry was doing. Minerva was going to have kittens when she saw the boy.

"Evans, are you ready to go?" The Bat barked, his sharpness accentuated with the early morning. Snape was not a morning person, and were it not for the dratted boy, would still be in bed at this time.

"Yes, sir!" Harry, on the other hand, loved the morning- along with the night, it was his only Dursley free time, which meant he could do whatever he liked, so long as he was quiet, and kept an ear open for any footsteps.

They walked out the door, and Snape steered Harry left, before he started to talk again:

"Minerva will be meeting us in The Leaky Cauldron before we go shopping. There should be time to stop for a breakfast, should you require it." Snape looked grumpy as he said this- probably because he wanted the extra lie in that Minerva got. Better yet, he would have liked to leave the shopping to her, and her only, but the old coot Dumbledore insisted. Something about equal bias for the houses, and such. His eyes had been sparkling as he said it, and Snape got the feeling he was laughing at both of them.

Harry was excited- he was going shopping, but not just shopping, wizard shopping! In what sounded like the coolest place on earth, from how Professor McGonagall described it. He was going to buy absolutely everything- oh. "Professor Snape" said Harry, blushing slightly. He hated accepting charity, mainly because it was always held over his head. "I don't have anything to pay for my school things with."

The man looked down at the boy next to him, who was blushing slightly, just a younger Snape did when he was placed into the same situation, although the outcome would be a little different for this boy- there was to be no charity involved.

"Your Mother and Father both held accounts at Gringotts, Evans, and they left you everything. Until you come of age, you use your trust vault, which has plenty of money to get you even passed Hogwarts. That does not mean, however, I wish to see you buying anything- we will withdraw 100 galleons, and any left over after we have bought your school materials you can spend on recreational items. Do save a little money for the train, though."

Harry nodded, satisfied. Then he tilted his head sideways, in what was obviously his questioning pose.

"Can I convert galleons to pounds?"

Snape sneered slightly. "Why on earth would you want to do that?"

Harry looked down at his scuffed, tatty shoes. "I don't have any money." He muttered "and I wanted to get some more tapes"

Snape frowned. "It can be done, however, this conversion will come out of the money we withdraw today, as will any fees incurred by it."

The young boy shrugged, that seemed fair enough... Maybe be would have enough money to get some new ones. His second hand ones, picked up by doing favours for neighbours, were great, but often the owners hadn't taken much care with them, so the sound was a little bit... broken.

By now Harry and Snape had reached the park. It was eerily quiet in the morning, not even a jogger or dog was out. Harry shivered slightly, this place felt like a ghost when there were no children playing on it.

Snape put his hand out to stop Harry. They were behind the biggest tree, and even if the people in the houses were to look out, they wouldn't see anything.

"We are going to apparate now, Mr Evans. It will feel horrible for you." Harry knew about apparation; it was one of the (many) things that McGonagall saw fit to tell him about last night. Carefully nodding, he grabbed onto Snape's offered arm, and then he felt like he was being pushed through a tube and it was getting tighter and tighter and he couldn't breath-.

They had arrived in an alley, in what Harry guessed to be London. Snape straightened his jacket and stepped out, leaving Harry, who was retching slightly, to follow on. Snape was stood outside a tatty looking pub; it had big windows, made of old, delicate looking glass, and smeared with dirt. An aged sign was hang above them, slightly rusty. It proclaimed this little strange place as the leaky cauldron. Snape strode in, and was soon followed by Harry, who was taking timid steps. He noticed Professor McGonagall sitting at a table in the corner, and he gladly made his way towards her.

"Good Morning, Mr Pot-" Snape had come over from the bar, and was glaring at McGonagall. "Mr Evans" she rectified, sighing slightly.

"How are you today?"

"I'm ok, thanks professor. Today's going to be awesome!"

McGonagall smiled slightly, the expression tight on her face.

"Shall we go then?" She asked, a little sharply, after Harry showed no sign of moving. Harry didn't respond. "Mr Evans?" She said, after a pause, looking down at where he was- no, where he used to be. McGonagall looked round the pub, until her eyes stopped on a lean, small figure leaning over the bar, chatting to the barmaid.

"You know him, Harry?" McGonagall asked, curious. Harry shook his head. "No, I don't." He looked up at her, kohl-lined eyes wide. "Shall we go?"

"Hmph. No breakfast Evans?"

"No, Sir, Thank you. I... Umm... Had some before you came." Harry now seemed unusually anxious to get out of the pub.

"Really." Snape was drawling, he had caught on to Harry's very obvious lie. Harry nodded his head, wondering if Snape had caught his lie.

"Very well, Evans. Do not make a habit of this."

Harry mentally pulled a face. Yeah, he had been caught.

Snape lead the way out back, where Harry looked around eagerly, and found... Nothing. It was just the normal back of a pub, with bins and binbags, facing a brick wall. Were they having him on?

Snape noticed Harry's look of confusion, and inwardly smirked. He took out his long wand, and tapped it against the brick wall. The wall folded in on itself, revealing the most magnificent place Harry had ever seen.

The streets by themselves could have been taken out of Victorian England, with uneven cobbles and old-fashioned buildings, it was the people that Harry found fascinating; dressed in old-fashioned, sweeping robes and pointy hats, the magical community could have been written out of a fantasy novel. In a way, they were, Harry supposed.

Whilst Harry was busy gaping at The Alley, Snape transfigured his clothes back into the robes they originated as. It wouldn't do for one of his associates to see him dressed as a muggle- he was still acting as a spy.

Once Harry had finished his inspection of the alley, McGonagall started to lead them towards a magnificent white building at the end of the alley way. As they passed through the doors, Harry murmured the poem to the side of them to himself. It sounded a little like a song to McGonagall, who's sharp ears were honed to mutters after years of working in the classroom. The boy had a good voice, even whilst whisper-singing, though it sounded as odd as his speaking voice. She wondered if he sang at school- it would explain his interest in music classes at Hogwarts. But then again, from what she could hear of his voice, he was not classically trained- there was none of the tell tale signs of it in his rather raw voice.

Harry gasped as he entered the bank- it had a huge, domed ceiling, and was predominantly made a marble. Little figures were moving around the bank, and as he got closer, he saw they were goblins. These goblins didn't look like the goblins from the Labyrinth though (Harry got to see it as he promised to serve Dudley whilst it was playing. His Aunt and Uncle were out), they seemed like goblins who would as happily chop off your head as do business with you.

Snape approached one of these creatures, and said something in a strange, guttural language. The goblin responded in kind, and soon they seemed to both be talking about something serious, if Snape's expression was anything to go by.

Harry soon got bored, and started looking around the bank. As he did, he noticed that a fair few people were staring at his appearance. He glared at a few of them, who look away, all except one. A red headed boy, about Harry's height seemed to take this as an invitation to swagger over.

"Hey. What's your name?"

"I'm Harry, Harry Po- umm.. Evans."

At Harry's words, the boy turned a little bit pale, and had an odd expression on his face. For a moment, Harry thought he had been recognised, but then the boy spoke again.

"That- that's an weird name for a girl?"

"It would be, wouldn't it? Luckily, I'm not a girl, so I guess it's not much of a strange name at all." At this statement, the boys face twisted, and Harry's heart sunk. This place seemed almost less accepting as the muggle world.

"You're a fucking poofter, aren't you! A f-f-f-" Harry wondered what was wrong with the boy, until he heard another voice behind him, a kind voice this time. "Don't finish that statement, Ron. In fact, it is probably better if you go about now." Ron nodded quickly and ran back to his family, who hadn't even noticed his absence.

Harry turned to look at his rescuer. It was a tall boy, about 14 years old. He had tousled brown hair, the fringe hanging over his eyes, his very grey eyes, which looked as kind and soft as the rest of him, and Harry's breath hitched slightly. This was the boy from before!

"H-hi. I'm Harry Evans" Harry extended his hand, with it's rainbow nails and long fingers. The boy smiled, somewhat ironically, and clasped his hand (but not to tight. Was everything about this boy gentle?, Harry wondered). Nice to meet you, Harry Evans. I'm Cedric Diggory. Are you ok? Ron shouldn't have said that stuff."

Harry laughed, part bitter and part amazed. "Oh, I've heard worse. He's just a kid, anyway". The boy frowned at this, and looked away awkwardly. "I'm sorry to hear that. I promise we aren't all like that." Cedric caught sight of a portly man, waving him over. "I'm sorry, Harry. I've got to go. Have a nice shopping trip! Will I be seeing you at Hogwarts?" Harry nodded and Cedric smiled. "I will keep an eye out. See you later, Harry Evans"

Whilst Harry had been talking to Cedric, Snape had retrieved some money. He gave Harry a steady look, and took him by the shoulders and led him outside, McGonagall following close behind. They took Harry around all the shops he needed to get his materials for school (his wand was sycamore, with a Phoenix tail core, slightly springy, 11 inches). Snape was very helpful when he came to by potions ingredients- one look had the shop keeper scuttling to get the best ingredients. McGonagall told him what trunks were the best, and whilst she was bargaining with the shop keeper, Snape pulled him aside. "Give me your Walkman." Harry handed it (rather nervously) over. Snape muttered a spell, and the Walkman glowed for a second before settling down, though it still glittered from certain angles.

"This spell is not common knowledge, Mr Evans. And I would rather it stay that way- it took me a lot of work to make it."

Harry gushed his thanks, until Snape was almost blushing. The tall man thrust some muggle bills at Harry, just as McGonagall came over, pleased as punch with the deal she got.

After 2 more hours going around shops, and after having a bite to eat, the teachers transfigured their clothing, and went to go and have a drink at the leaky cauldron as Harry went muggle shopping. He got a t-shirt, and about 10 tapes. These, combined with his old ones, would be plenty for Hogwarts.

Snape nodded to the bar tender, and walked out with Harry, whose purchases for the day had been shrunk to fit in his pocket. Snape apparated him back to his house, resized his stuff, and left with the warning he would be there at 7.00 to pick up Harry to take him to the train station on the 1st of September. Harry was a little unnerved at how well Snape seemed to guess what his relatives were like- could he read minds?

Snape, on the other hand, was fuming. He had seen the boys thoughts about how he was going to get to the train station, and what his relatives would do to him if he asked them to take him. There seemed to be a lot of hitting and a cupboard involved. It was hard not to pick up on the thoughts, the boy was practically broadcasting them. So now Snape was going to have a conversation with Dumbledore. The strange young boy was growing on him.

A.N. Well, there you go then, Harry's shopping trip. What did you readers think of Ron? And Cedric? Harry's wand was changed due to character differences, though the core has remained the same. As ever, if you spot mistakes, spelling errors, inaccuracies or unicorns, please tell me so I can fix it (or talk to it). If you will bother to flame, try to make it constructive. Magical little box below let's me know what you think. Play the game: spot the references and it's a Hungarian Horntail for you today! Stay awesome, readers.

-THM.


	4. Fantastic Voyage

The next 31 days leading up to Hogwarts passed by Harry in a haze- he would get up early and, armed with his notebook, pencil and Walkman, would go a sit in a tree, or on a bench somewhere. Thankfully, he had enough muggle money left over to buy cheap snacks for lunch, so he didn't have to go back to the Dursley's. He had the feeling they rather preferred it this way, and, on this occasion, Harry was only too happy to abide. Harry reckoned that if he had looked more normal, the Dursley's would have had him doing chores all day, but, luckily for him and all his free time, he was weird enough that they wanted him put away from them, as often and far as possible. In fact, Harry had very little interaction with the Dursley's. He only really saw them when they had to pick him up from school (it would be suspicious if they didn't, as they were fond of reminding him).

On the first of September, Harry was awake by 5 am (He snuck out into the kitchen to check and grab a drink of water). His cupboard was a tight fit for him, these days, and so Harry spent as little time as he could in it, preferring instead to go outside, where Dudley could never find him for a spot of Harry-Hunting. Today however... The Dursleys never got up until 8am, so the house was left all to Harry. He couldn't help but smirk slightly at the horror that would cause his Aunt and Uncle (Petunia would look like she had sucked a lemon, and Vernon would go puce (a colour that Harry never liked, mainly for that reason.))

Rather than causing havoc though, and running amok, which would be sure to get him punished the moment he got back, Harry decided that a quiet rebellion would be best, and instead grabbed his notebook and a textbook (which, upon later inspection, appeared to be his transfiguration one), and sit on the couch doing freaky things like reading, after doing his make-up and nails (Harry sometimes wondered if Aunt Petunia ever noticed her nail polish going missing. Then again, she never really wore it, so maybe not.)

By the time Snape arrived (7' o 'Clock, on the dot. How did that man do it?), Harry had learned the first two basic theories of transfiguration, and was well on his way to learning his third. When he heard the door bell, Harry jumped up (quite literally), pulled his trunk out of the cupboard, and opened the door.

"Mr Evans" Snape drawled (did the man always drawl? Harry thought, before (mentally) smirking at the idea of a tiny little Snape-toddler requesting food in that voice). "I was beginning to think that you had over-slept."

Harry flushed, he hadn't taken that long pulling his trunk out, had he? "Sorry Sir"

Snape made a noise in the back of his throat and looked Harry up and down. "Subtle, Mr Evans." There were many ways to describe Harry's outfit, and subtle was not one of them. On the bright side, it would certainly alert Harry's classmates as to who Harry was early on...

"Do you not own any thing... More appropriate?"

"I've got a dress, sir?"

"That was not exactly what I meant, and you know it Evans."

Harry rolled his (admittedly well done) eyes. "Clothes aren't gendered, professor. T'is but society that makes them so."

"I will enjoy watching you try to explain that to your class mates, Mr Evans." Snape really would. Pay for good seats and popcorn, even, something he hadn't done in a very long time.

Harry was wearing rainbow leggings, picked up at the peace festival with his new cash, an oversized charity shop sweater (with large black and white stripes) and some very silver boots, of which Snape was almost 100 percent sure were girls boots, since they were pointy, with little blocky heels, and came up to his ankle. Let it never be said Harry was afraid of public opinion. Harry sighed in his head, before asking Snape how they would be getting there, praying for it to be anything but apparation. His prayers were not answered, and, before Harry had even started his protest, they had arrived in a grimy alley that looked as though it had not been cleaned since it's construction.

Harry had hardly finished retching before Snape was moving off in the direction of the station, taking long, loping strides that forced Harry to practically jog to keep up, all the while tugging along his heavy trunk. By the time they got there, Harry was panting with effort, and thankfully took one of the trolleys offered to him.

Walking through the station meant people staring at Harry, which was a problem Snape had never had to deal with before. At this rate, they would never get through the barrier without some muggle noticing! Frowning Snape drew his wand slightly out of his sleeve, just so the tip was showing, and tapped Harry on the head, non-verbally casting a notice me not charm. Harry looked up, confused, and Snape murmured, "Notice me not charm. Muggles cannot see us going through the barrier now."

"Barrier, sir? What barrier?"

Snape pointed at the column ahead, that had a nine on one side, and a ten on the other. "But sir, there's nothing-"

"Run at it Evans."

"Sir?"

"Run at it."

Shrugging, Harry took off at a jog to the barrier, bracing himself for the crash...

There was none. Had he stopped before he got there? Harry looked around, and what he saw definitely proved to him he hadn't... The place was covered in people wearing robes, like in the Alley, but best of all there was a bright red honest-to-god steam train, like out of the old films. It was stunning, amazing. It was- Harry felt a hand on his back, and it dragged him away from the barrier. He struck out at it, and felt the hand drop him, and the owner say "woah, it's ok!" Just as a cart came flying through the barrier, right where he had been standing.

"Thank you, sorry for yelli-" Harry turned around as he said this, and ended up facing a tall boy with soft eyes. "Cedric!"

"Hey Harry" Cedric said, smiling "sorry about grabbing you, but people tend to come through the barrier quite quickly-"

"No, no it's fine..." Harry was pretty sure he was blushing by this point, and thankfully turned when he felt a slightly more familiar hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Professor Snape, who was looking at Cedric. "Your help has been noted, Mr Diggory. Now, though, Mr Evans must board the train. Excuse us." With an inclination of his head and a wave of Harry's hand, Harry was pulled away on to the train. "Try to find a compartment, Evans. The other first years should be boarding the train soon. It would serve you well not to alienate them at this point in time." Harry blinked. "Understood, sir"

"Very well. I shall undoubtedly see you at Hogwarts, it would do you good to take this time to read your textbooks."

Harry nodded, then started walking down the carriageway. He quickly came across an empty one, and, struggling, managed to put his trunk up on the rack, and settled in for a long journey.

About two hours into the journey, Harry heard a tapping on the window, and looked up to see two faces peering in to the compartment. He blinked, stood, and opened the door.

"Hello youngling!"

Harry blinked again before murmuring a word back "Hi..."

"My dear George, I do believe this is the firsty Ron met at Gringrotts that day!"

"I do believe that is the case, Freddie."

"You're Ron's brothers?"

"We don't define ourselves by that fact though"

"You should know that our pig headed brother's opinions"

"in no way reflect our own"

Their method of ending each other's sentences confused Harry, it was like watching a verbal tennis match, and it was starting to give Harry a head ache.

"Nice clothes, firsty."

"We just came to tell you..."

"...that people have been staring since you arrived"

"Now we shall go, and leave you..."

"...In peace"

The twins (Harry presumed they were twins, since they were identical) quickly left, shutting the door with a bang, and leaving Harry alone again. He shrugged, and sat back down again, just in time for the compartment door to fly open again, this time not of his volition. The cause of the second interruption was a young girl, about his age with frizzy hair and already dressed in robes. "Have you seen a toad, it's just Neville is missing his, so I am checking all the compartments- oh!" The young girl finally took in his appearance. "You really should be in robes by now, and why are you wearing make-up, it's for girls not boys!" Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"As far as I am concerned, Miss..."

"Granger, Hermione Granger."

"...Granger, make-up is for anybody who wants to wear it. And we are only two hours into a five hour trip, I think I have plenty of time."

"Oh, well then." She wrinkled her nose."I will see you later, I suppose." With a snooty look, she left the compartment, and left Harry in the relative peace of his own company and Walkman. If that was the worst he was going to get at Hogwarts, Harry thought he could probably deal with it. He once again settled in to his seat, and let himself be swept away with Hunky Dory.

He must have drifted off, because, after what seemed like only minutes, there was a prefect knocking on his compartment, telling him to get changed. Harry had made slight (very slight) alterations to the recommended uniform; his trousers, whilst still the correct colour and material, were tight, and his shoes were black, like the list asked for, but instead of buying the normal school shoes, Harry got his silver boots, just in black. Professor McGonagall had rolled her eyes, when she saw what he had brought, but it wasn't technically against regulations, so she couldn't do anything about it.

Within 10 minutes, everybody was disembarking from the train, apparently leaving their trunks behind, and so Harry followed them, and allowed himself to be swept into the crowd, keeping his head down, to try and stay as inconspicuous as possible. Once he got off the train, Harry saw a large man, with wild black hair, holding a lantern and yelling "First Years over here! First Years over here."

Struggling through the gaggle of students, Harry made is way to the huddle surrounding the huge man. He did a head count and said "come on" to the gathered children. They followed him down the rocks, and, being careful not to slip over, stood by the waters edge, where boats were tethered.

"No more than 4 to a boat!" The man-giant yelled as the eleven years all scrambled to get in. Harry stood patiently, waiting for the rabble to die down, along with a sneering boy, with extremely slicked back hair, and two others, who stood at his shoulders like body guards. The young boy looked over at Harry, briefly, before giving him another, harder look.

"Hello" said Harry. The boy blinked back. "I'm Harry Evans" he tried again. The boy blinked, again. One of the taller boys nudged the pale boy's shoulder. "Draco?"

"What- Yes. Don't touch me like that Crabbe." The boy -Draco- spoke imperiously, with the slight hint of a southern accent that not even the most arrogant of accents could through of the boy. Harry thought his voice would sound nicer with out the put on sneer.

"I am Draco Malfoy. I am sure you will have heard of me." Harry smiled slightly as he shook his head. "I wasn't raised knowing about magic, sorry." Draco grimaced as he said the next words. "So you're a mud- muggleborn." Something told him that this strange boy was not one to insult...

"Not exactly, no. I'm a half blood, but my parents... Died, a long time ago."

"Oh", Draco muttered rather lamely. He looked away awkwardly, before noticing that most of the others had found their boats. "We have to go. Bye Evans"

With those parting words, Draco left, and Harry went to find a boat with some room. The only boat he could find had the girl, Granger, from before in it, along with another, small looking nervous boy.

"Hello." Harry smiled. "Do you mind if I sit?"

Granger sniffed, and turned her head away, but the other boy, Neville shook his head and told Harry to go ahead. He had a slight stutter, and turned red as he spoke. The group didn't exchange another word for the whole trip across, sans Harry's gasp as he saw the magnificent castle, for the first time. It echoed power but it also felt... Kind, accepting. Harry fell in love instantly.

A.N. Long chapter, I do apologise. Also, I must say sorry for the wait, and can offer no excuses, I am afraid. Anyway, it's here now, and the new chapter is (hopefully) on the way. Cookies and coffee/tea/butterbeer for anyone who bothers to review. You know the drill by now, and potential flamers, you have probably something better to do. Go and drink some tea or something. Have a biscuit. You all have my best,

-THM


	5. Rebel, Rebel

When the boats bumped into land, Harry was the first out of his boat- If Hogwarts was that magnificent on the outside, he could not wait to see what it would look like on the inside. The giant man stepped out of his boat, and, holding the lantern high, moved towards the huge oak doors, before pounding on them with a huge fist. On the third knock, the doors swung open, and Professor McGonagall stood there. "Thank you Hagrid. I shall take them from here." The Professor spoke more sharply here than she had to Harry before.

"Right you are Professor!" Boomed the, now named, Hagrid. He strode off, and Professor McGonagall turned back to face the first years. "Follow me." And she turned and lead them into the most amazing place that Harry had ever been.

The room she took them into had beautiful high ceilings, marble floors and a huge, ornate staircase, which was perpendicular to the largest set of doors that Harry had ever seen, completed with suits of armour and portraits, Harry could have admired it for hours on end.

The Professor told them to smarten up, her eyes resting on Ron, and then left, presumably to retrieve something. Ron, who had grown pink under her eye, caught sight of Harry, and walked over to him. "Hey Poof. I didn't think they let your sort into Hogwarts! Will you be dorming with the girls, since you're practically one yourself-" Ron trailed off, sneering at something over Harry's shoulder and Harry sighed. Just once, once, he would like to be rescued by someone in front of him. Or behind his attacker. Really it didn't matter, but this standing behind Harry to rescue him thing was getting quite old, and was really quite inconvenient. Twisting around to face his defender, he was surprised to see Draco's face. "Red hair, freckles, hand-me-down robes? You must be a Weasley. Funny, I thought Hogwarts knew better than to let your sort in." At this, Ron went a funny puce colour, reminiscent of Vernon, and stormed off to go and bother someone else in the queue. He looked as though he was about to punch something, and Harry's yearmates edged away.

"Don't think this makes us friends, Evans." Draco warned Harry, looking down at him, in that almost comedically snooty way of his.

"Of course, Malfoy. Thanks". Draco's mask was almost dropped for a second, but then he turned away, and left Harry alone again. Professor McGonagall has come back just as Malfoy turned away, and looked at Harry to check if he was ok, so Harry just nodded. Draco hadn't really said anything to hurt him, it was mainly Ron, but he didn't think the Professor really needed to know that. The Professor gave a short speech on the houses (effectively the same one she had given Harry that fateful night), before dragging a watchful eye over the group and saying "follow me" once more, leading them into a huge room, with beautiful wall decorations and banners hanging from the ceiling, which looked like the night sky. If possible, Harry fell even more deeply in love with the place when he saw this room. He could hear Granger muttering behind him, but couldn't be bothered to tune in, preferring instead to cast his eye over the room and it's inhabitants. He caught sight of Cedric, who was wearing the yellow tie of Hufflepuff. He must have seen Harry looking, because he waved his hand slightly, and smiled. Harry was too apprehensive about the sorting to smile properly, he felt, so instead wriggled his fingers in a vague approximation of a wave. Cedric's attention was called away by someone tapping him on the shoulder, and so Harry pulled his gaze away, and instead caught sight of a figure sitting in the middle of the staff table, smiling benevolent at the students. The man was Professor Dumbledore, Harry guessed, and he too caught Harry staring. Professor Dumbledore focused his electric eyes on the boy that looked like a girl who had so impressed and worried Snape, and raised his glass in his direction. Severus was certainly right about one thing, the boy-who-lived certainly wasn't what he on anybody else expected, and Dumbledore was very interested to see where the young boy would be sorted.

Harry had almost jumped out of his skin when the hat had first started speaking, but, once he got used to the idea, very much enjoyed the song. He didn't know where he would be put though he really didn't feel like any of the traits the hat had listed. He fidgeted slightly as he waited for his name to be called. "Harry Evans!" Oh yeah, Harry had almost forgot that was what he was going to be called at Hogwarts. Shaking slightly, he made his way up to the stool. He could hear the students whispering at his appearance, and something squirmed in the pit of his stomach. Head up, he sat on the stool, outwardly calm, and looked out on the students faces until the hat was dropped over his head, and it all went black.

"Hello Mr Evans...or should I say, Potter." The hat had a nice voice, slightly creepy, but nice."Quite a cunning plan you've concocted there, Mr Potter. And you certainly have enough ambition for Slytherin...you could be great there... But oh my! No, no... The Slytherins would eat you alive! So where to put you... Not Ravenclaw, certainly, you are not studious enough for that. Besides, I doubt you wanted to be treated like a specimen for your time here. Hufflepuff or Gryffindor then? You are willing to work hard, but only for the things you want... Loyal to only a very select few...You wish to be brave? As you see your idol? Yes... You are almost there...You will certainly need bravery in years to come...Very well... GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word was shouted aloud, and the table with the red and gold ties started to clap politely, led mostly by Fred and George, Harry noted. Cedric smiled at him, though a tad wanly, and Harry handed the hat back to Professor McGonagall, who also smiled faintly, though he got the feeling that this was out of necessity, and not out of disappointment at his placement. He walked off in the direction of the table, and sat down carefully, before looking up at Professor Snape.

Severus Snape was a tad disappointed at the boy's house, he had to admit. He had hoped for a Hufflepuff at least, but he couldn't pretend to be surprised at his placement. At the very least, Snape's trepidation of Harry turning out to be James Potter mark two didn't seem to be very likely, the boy certainly wasn't spoilt, and did not seem inclined to bully. Hopefully, being placed in the house of lions would not knock that out of him. Severus just hoped that Minerva would have enough sense to watch over him- the newest Weasley seemed to be particularly nasty, and Snape was certain other would share his sentiments.

Harry himself did not see the deal about the houses, he didn't see why it mattered who he had lessons with and where he slept. It wasn't as if he couldn't be friends with the other houses (he thought, or rather, hoped). Besides, he had never fitted well into boxes- he rather went out of his way to avoid them, so the idea of a system with only four slots to choose one, to define yourself by? Harry wasn't very impressed.

A.N. SURPRISE! Maybe not a badger after all... Sorry for all of you how wanted a Hufflepuff Hero, and believe me, I was tempted, but Harry knows how to work hard, and being a gryff will teach him much more. Rest assured, he will stay friends with Cedric. Much shorter this time, but I feel this is the chapters natural end, and, to be honest, this chapter was a bitch to write. With thanks to AmorteliaRayne3 for their help with this chapter, you certainly sped up the process, and to you wonderful people for following this. If you can be bothered to review, try to make it pleasant, cause being mean is kind of boring, and you really should have something better to do. Caramel Milkshakes for readers today.

-THM.


	6. All The Young Dudes

Contrary to what the Dursley's might tell you if you asked them, Harry Potter was not a stupid boy. He knew there would be trouble with Ron Weasley being sorted into the same house as him, he just didn't expect the trouble to start immediately, and Harry certainly didn't expect to be locked out of his own dormitory on his (their) first night at Hogwarts.

His other roommates were exempt from any blame, they had been asleep when it had happened, it was only Ron who had acted against him. Harry had woken up at two am, from a nightmare that had haunted him since he was young, and caused many a sleepless night for the boy (starring: a young woman, a scream and a green light coming toward him). He had stood up to get some water to calm down, but as he took steps towards the bathroom, Harry saw an ominous figure, illuminated by moonlight. He had gone to reach for his wand (though he knew no practical spells, and had almost entirely forgotten the transfiguration theories from before.), but then the shape spoke, showing it's self to be Ron. "Do you know you scream in your sleep, sissy?"

Harry winced, he was too tired to deal with Ron's shit at this time at night.

"I am sorry, I'll just go back to-" At this he jerked his thumb behind him, at his bed, but the gesture seemed lost on Ron, who was slowly advancing. "The thing is, sissy, I don't feel safe sleeping with your kind near me...in fact, I would feel better if you didn't sleep here at all..." Ron was getting up in his personal space, and Harry turned, as Ron walked past him. With a sinking heart, Harry realised what Ron had done. Whilst they had been speaking, Ron had been moving forward, not towards Harry, but towards his precious wand, his link to this wonderfully fantastical world. He now held it in his hands, and it was showing white in the moonlight. As Harry watched, Ron grasped it in both hands, and laboriously started bending it.

"No! Please, please stop! Stop!" Harry felt his stomach lurch in panic at the concept of loosing his wand, and lunged forward to grab it, just as Ron lurched back. "Tsch, tsch. I won't hurt your bloody wand, if you promise to sleep outside the dormitory... Remember, I know where you keep it now..." Harry could do nought but nod his consent, staring in horror as his delicate wand started to bend to breaking point, just as Ron dropped it. Harry grabbed it, then, with Ron watching his every move, ran out the dorm, shutting the door quietly behind him. He was glad none of the others had been awake for that, they hadn't talked to him since the feast, and Harry didn't think he could have stood seeing their passive faces watching the conflict. So now Harry was leaning on the door of his room, and he was getting colder by the minute, having not thought to grab a blanket or pillow as he was chased out.

Hadn't the prefect said that the common room was open all hours? But then he also said that the first years were to be asleep by ten... Oh, screw it, Harry was freezing, stuck out here on the cold stone floor, and a fire sounded lovely. As he made his way into the common room, though, he noticed there was another figure sitting there, at a desk in the corner. The older gryffindor was working away at something, which made Harry loath to go into the room, they seemed to be concentrating very hard, until they stopped, put their pen (no, quill) down and turned around, obviously sensing Harry's presence at the doorway. They stood up, and came closer into the light, until their face became obvious in the fire. "Percy! I- umm. I'll just go..."

The prefect looked pensively into the fire before looking up at Harry. "You're a first year, yes? Are you homesick?" Harry shook his head, slowly. Of all the people, it had to be a bloody prefect. "I just couldn't sleep, I just thought the fire might-" he trailed off. Thankfully, his bad lies could be covered up by his shaking, a look that seemed to cement the tales worth in Percy's head.

"Of course. Just- don't make a habit of it Evans." The prefect stretched and started gathering his books, carefully. He seemed to do everything carefully, Harry noticed. So different to the ginger git upstairs. Still, he was nothing like his supposed family, who was he to pass judgement? Harry curled up on the armchair nearest the fire and shivered. He was not going to get much sleep tonight.

A few hours later and Harry was cursing his brain's lack of lateral thought. 29 bloody steps and he had managed to find a part of the castle Harry doubted had even been seen by any human alive today. Damnit. He was lost, he knew he looked terrible (he hadn't wanted to risk the wrath of an early morning Ron, who he was sure was even more of an arse than Ron late at night. He seemed like that kind of a guy) and he was still bloody freezing. Harry tried retracing his steps but nothing rang a bell and- bummer. He knew where he was now, and it still wasn't good news. There was a door, slightly ajar, and inside was a cat Harry recognised. Brilliant. Well, he could just calmly edge his way round and- hit the suit of armour that was next to him. The cat he had been trying so hard to avoid jumped and in front of him was a towering 5'9" wall of startled, angry Scottish lady. Harry almost groaned.

"Evans? What on earth are you doing here, at this time in the morning?"

He looked up at her though his- uncombed- fringe and reminded himself he had done nothing wrong. "Um, I was looking for breakfast but I must have taken a wrong turn and I think I found a new bit of castle then I went back but I found myself here and I tried to get passed but then there was this knight next to me and-"

"Yes, alright Evans, I get the message. You've still got about 20 minutes before breakfast starts."

"Ah. Sorry. I didn't realise what the time was. I'll just be-". Harry gestured behind himself and McGonagall faintly smiled.

"You could, but you would be going in completely the wrong direction."

Harry grimaced. Now he looked like a complete arse in front of his new teacher. Fantastic.

McGonagall peered at Harry over the top of her specs. "Evans, are you sure you're alright? It is extremely early, and I would have thought you would wish to stay with your housemates?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm just a morning person ma'am, and I didn't want to wake them, you know..."

McGonagall looked down at Harry thoughtfully. "Well," she said, "it may be wise to stick with them until you have found your way round the castle, Evans, if only to stop any more, more dangerous, discoveries you may make. Breakfast is that way."

Harry nodded and edged his way round the suit of armour in the direction McGonagall was pointing. He nodded again, and resisting the urge to bow, jogged down the corridor.

"And no running Evans!" Harry slowed, before the corner twisted and he picked up the pace again. Breakfast. And tea. Tea makes everything better. Tea was something Harry could stand by. And breakfast. Harry was starving.

The directions really helped, along with the age old trick of following your nose. It was too early for the hall to be called crowded by any means, but one table did seem more populated than the rest. The blue people, though try as he might Harry could not remember what they were called. Forever more the blue people then; besides it kind of suited them. He sat at the same table as last night, near the end. No one else, it seemed, was awake in Gryffindor, aside from a young boy, with his nose in- was that a text book? Harry shuffled along till he was opposite him. "Um, hi?" He said, as brightly as was possible for the early hour, "My name's Harry Evans. Are you a first year too?"

The boy looked up and smiled, closed mouth but still (fairly) friendly. "Hello. Yes, is it obvious? I'm Dean Thomas." Dean rattled these off as facts, polite but not starting conversation. Harry shook his head and gestured at his book.

"Is it good?"

"Oh- this is the transfiguration text book. I just wanted to make sure I didn't go in unprepared."

Harry nodded, smiled and let the conversation die. The boy went back to her book and Harry congratulated himself on a conversation with no insults passed on either end. Sometimes you have to take the victories as they come. Like tea. He took a sip and smiled, it really was very good tea.

By the time Harry had finished his toast, the hall had started to really fill up, starting with a trickle of yellow and blue, a wall of green and, finally, a flood of red tied, blurry eyed Gryffindors. The first year boys all sat down together, next to Harry, with varying degrees of reluctance. Neville was the first to speak. "Hey Harry. What time did you get down here?" So Ron hadn't told them about their midnight squabble. Well, if Ron didn't say anything, Harry wouldn't either.

"Good Morning Neville. Quite a while ago really, I quite like mornings." He smiled. Ron snorted loudly from somewhere further down the table and Harry winced. He really hoped Ron didn't spread what had happened around- he was really trying to blend it, though looking around past the few sitting next to him, he could tell it wasn't really working. Scowling, he bent his head, hair falling over his face, hiding his smudged make-up. Maybe he could have taken a little more time this morning, made it more subtle than how it was left after last night last night, so that people didn't see- blimey, since when was he worried about what People thought of him? His frown smoothing itself out, he raised his head again, smiling as he met one of the watchers eyes. The dark haired boy, wearing a green and silver tie, raised a single, bushy eyebrow, and inclined his head before turning back to his plate of food. Harry almost laughed at the properness of it all, before turning his attention back to his plate.

Harry's first lesson of the day was transfiguration, with Professor McGonnagall. He enjoyed her demonstrations, but, despite his earlier preparations, the theory went straight over his head. Harry did enjoy actually changing the match into a needle, though he could only manage to turn it into a wooden needle (complete with an eye!). He got 10 points for Gryffindor for that, which he was very proud of, and (surprise, surprise) Ron sneered at.

The rest of the day passed in a regular blur. He had enjoyed charms and potions (though Snape seemed to hate Gryffindors), had liked herbology and care of magical creatures, and disliked defence against the dark arts and history of magic (he got a blinder of a headache in DADA, and caught up on sleep in history of magic). He was shattered though, and couldn't help but be relieved when the day was over.

A.N. I have nothing but apologies for you; not even an excuse. However, since we have nearly transitioned into autumn, and I tried my first pumpkin spiced latte, I can give you a pumpkin spice latte as retribution.

-THM


	7. Everything's Alright

The week passed quickly, as weeks do, and Harry, after the first night debacle, soon found a solution to Ron's night time aggression. He would simply wait until 10.30pm in the common rooms (he asked Neville, who always seemed to be awake the latest, and had caught on to the fact Harry wasn't coming in to sleep and had figured out the reason, to check at the clock whenever Ron started to snore. Neville, though he was unsure about the task at first, preformed admirably) and then would go up to the dorm, sleep, and wake himself up at 5am and do his morning stuff then. Thankfully, Ron slept like a particularly dormant log (not like some people, who sleep like logs that are full to the brim of wood lice and ants and caterpillars and, on occasions, hedgehogs) and wouldn't wake easily. Neville, however, was a hedgehog log, and Harry could often feel his eyes on him as he went around collecting his gear for that day. On the Saturday, Neville spoke up. Harry, who had been putting on his eyeliner for the day, jumped with surprise and drew a line in heavy black down his face.

"Shit shit shit, one sec Neville!" Harry desperately searched for something to get it off. Neville, who had risen at that point, handed Harry a wipe, and watched in the mirror as Harry scrubbed the line off, revealing bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.

"H-Harry" he said, a furrow forming in his brow. "Why do you let Ron do this?"

Harry caught his eye in the mirror. "It's just easier, Neville. It's the best solution for both of us; he gets his me-free sleep and I get me-sleep." He laughed slightly. "Besides, I don't want to go to McGonnagall! I still have to live with the guy, and going to a teacher will just set him against me. You get it don't you?"

Neville nodded slightly, of course he got it. He heard what people would say behind his back; and he, unlike Harry didn't have a barricade of heavy handed eyeliner and odd clothes and devil may care attitude to retreat behind or, when that failed, the constant ammunition of remembered words and half screamed phrases to plug his ears up with when it got too much for him and he needed to block out the whispers.

Harry almost hit himself. What a thing to say to Neville! Harry had heard the mutters, you couldn't not. He had seen how Neville sat alone at the table, how he could never get a partner in lessons.

"Neville" he said, quietly. "Would you have breakfast with me this morning?" Neville nodded again, and whisper-spoke back to Harry "'course. I'll just get ready."

Harry smiled at him, then went to sit on his bed as Neville got changed for the day.

When they got down to breakfast, the hall was just opening. Harry and Neville rushed in (tea! And breakfast!) and sat down at the bench. Harry looked up at the teachers bench, if he was right, the only person there would be Snape- yep. He nodded good morning, and smiled at him, whilst Snape, for his part, inclined an eyebrow and looked to Harry's left, where Neville was gaping at him. Harry shrugged slightly, and smiled again, before turning back to his cup of steaming hot tea.

"Y-you know professor Snape?" Neville seemed shocked. "I thought, I thought he didn't like Gryffindors?" Harry gave him a sheepish smile. "He gave me my letter and stuff, so..."

Neville bobbed his head up and down. "He's still scary though!"

Harry outright grinned at that.

The day was one of those autumn days that strikes occasionally, when we all least expect it, just to remind us that winter is coming and tell us "you really should think about buying a scarf. Really. Look how cold it is! It would be much warmer with a scarf." In that half snooty, half worried way of its'.

Cold and blustery, after walking down to the greenhouse with Neville to check their plants, Harry's feet were frozen, and he started to think they should issue a leaf warning- like a gale warning but so that you would know not to step outside, lest the bloody things attack you, as they were doing to them. They fought their way back through the leaves and wind, into the relative safety of the castle, when Neville spotted Ron, so they were edging around the corner when they both bumped into somebody.

"Longbottom, Evans. Are you blind or something?" Harry turned around and faced Malfoy, who was leaning against a wall, looking utterly unbothered. Harry smiled. "Not blind, just doing some back walking! I've heard it's even better for you then normal walking, and you can see where you've been!"

Malfoy tilted his head one way, then the other, as though Harry was a particularly odd page in an otherwise normal textbook. "Best to see where you are going, I would say, Evans. That way you can avoid bumping into people who are just doing their best to enjoy the morning without people."

Harry nodded, and pulled his face down into a more serious expression. "Right you are, Malfoy. Longbottom, let us leave this young, ever so slightly anti-social man in peace, as we absolutely do not ever look behind us. Not once! Just watch as we go, looking straight ahead!" Harry would swear he heard Malfoy laugh slightly as they turned the corner, never once checking behind them.

Having, really, nothing else to do, Neville and Harry slowed to a stroll and meandered their way to the library. Neville was, prompted by Harry, telling him the basics of French. It was by all accounts, quite informative, Harry thought. He did wonder why Neville, the small, chubby, clumsy and really very English boy could speak such perfect French, as the teaching of languages at school (muggle ones at least) was pretty shit, but he chose not to interrupt- being as it was, the longest Harry had heard Neville speak, and the loudest. A student passing through Neville's line of vision, however, shut him up quite quickly, probably for the best as they had reached and were entering the library, and the librarian was already starting to glare at them.

"Neville," Harry lowered his voice into a whisper as they rounded a corner into one of the aisles. "Why can you speak French?"

Neville flustered for a moment, his face turning red. "Umm, my m-mum she came from- comes from France, so I just..." Harry's brow furrowed- he had caught the slip up, but he didn't know Neville was an orphan. Sensing the boys uncomfortableness with the subject though, Harry decided to drop it.

Ok. If any of you lot are still around to read this, please hold off before throwing the mouldy drink I offered you a while back. This chapter is inexcusably late, but, like every procrastinator ever, I have my excuses.

I found the legendary brick wall of writers block, tried to climb it but sprained my finger so could type this.

or I found the wall and did a Doctor and spent a few million years clawing away at it

I also have a dozen more reasons; lost my password to this account, had school work, had to go on a quest to destroy some jewellery blah blah blah.

I'm really not joking why I say I'm sorry though- would cookies make up for it?... Ouch! Hey no stop throwing those things- they're not ow projectiles.

Exciting news though guys! Bowie is realising a new album called Blackstar. Hands up if you're excited- not the fingers don't go for the fingers!

-THM.


	8. Dollar Days

It was almost Christmas, And the year was passing quickly for Harry, sucked up as he was into the magical humdrum of Hogwarts life. His lessons were going well (sans History of magic, which was, to be truthful, his designated nap time). He had even received an outstanding on his last potions essay, which had been as easy to get as snatching gold from a goblin- which is to say, not at all. He and Snape had thankfully remained in contact, with Snape even giving him the occasional extra lesson, although that was sometimes just fustrating for them both, with Snape's precision coming to odds with Harry's more 'try as we go along nature'. Harry did like those lessons though, spotted as they were with references to his mum. Last weekend, Harry had learnt that she was great at potions, that she loved liquorice wands, but hated chocolate frogs because they were too realistic, and that she was a rebel too, in her own, very polite way- although, Snape claimed, she did have a very fiery temper when annoyed, and was especially good with the Boogy-Bat curse. Harry clung to the snippets of his mum jealously over the lilac smoke, always hoping, but never fishing, for more.

Unfortunately, one issue which remained was Ron. His muttering frequent- and frequently annoying, and his, all be it very juvenile, threats were a daily occurence. Harry had taken to timing the day by the number of insults that had been thrown at him, and soon found his lack of watch to be no issue. It took, Harry decided, a strange and special person to be quite as loathsome as Ronald Weasley. The boy must come with redeeming factors- that he was sure of, otherwise the other boys would not be nearly as amiable to him as they were. He had heard Ron laughing with them, sharing food with them, but it was hard to find much room to find goodness in him when that laugh was taunting him only 10 minutes later. Ronald, it seemed, had taken a singular hatred towards him. Harry had heard it said that ignorance is bliss, mostly by adults wishing to discourage his curiosity. He disagreed with them- whilst ignorance might be bliss for the ignorant, it was hell on earth for the different who had to suffer through it. Harry was not, regardless of the names he was called, a coward. He was not a masochist. And he would not continue to take this sheer... this sheer... ignorance lying down (especially as it was disturbing his sleep). With this in mind, Harry had concocted a plan, and, using insidious methods (a rare plant he found near the edge of the forest) coaxed Neville into the plan with him.

It was, for all effects, very simple.

It had only 3 ingredients: tongue tie powder from zonks (mail order special), a willing 5th year and access to Ron's food (provided by Neville).

The first two were surprisingly easy to find, especially now, when all the upper years wanted practise for their exams. He had given the flask, now glowing in a slightly worrying radioactive green to neville, trusting him to sprinkle it on his food. If it worked properly, Ron's hair would turn more green with every insult he threw at Harry, and his tongue would "tie" (though Harry was unsure of the logistics of that) with every insult. As pranks go, it was pretty mild, but Harry didn't want to hurt Ron, just... mildly infuriate him. And now Harry was pacing. They would not see anything till breakfast, they could not do anything till breakfast. Muttering curses under his breath, Harry went walking. He knew that the third floor was off limits, and was not stupid enough to test why in a school with moving stairs, so he headed down, and found himself in a warmly lit corridor, with a painting of a fruit bowl at one end. It was oil, by the look of it, and, if Harry was honest, a bit boring. He turned away from it, disappointed at another dead end (although, at the very least, it was well lit. The last one had spiders.) and walked straight into another body, with a yellow and black tie. Sometimes, Harry resented his shortness.

"Hey Harry! Are you going to the kitchens too?"

"Cedric Diggory", Harry thought "was not always the brightest of fellows, for one which (Snape claimed) was top of his class". He was puzzled, however, by the use of the word kitchens... surely he couldn't mean the painting-

Some of his confusion must have been evident on his face, because Cedric took pity on him, and spun him round, pointing to the painting.

"Go on- tickle the pear". This was said without an ounce of humour, and, if it weren't for the fact he had had to Run through a wall to get the this school in the first place, Harry would have called his bluff. Cedric smiled encouragingly however, and, internally sighing over how ridiculous he must look, Harry lent forward and ran his fingers across the pear. To his surprise, it let out a little giggle and the painting swung open, and Harry climbed in through the gap.

The room itself was cavernous, with a massive arched ceiling and stone walls. Noise and smells were echoing off the hard walls, enticing and domestic at the same time. It had tables, set out like the ones in the great hall, with cauldrons and ovens and agars with steam rising from their various pots, taking up the rest of the space. More interesting for Harry, though, were the tiny creatures, a little less than half his height and in their hundreds, who were scurrying and slaving around the massive pots. As one they looked up, curious, at him and Cedric, until one hurried over.

She was an odd looking creature, with giant, pointed ears that stuck out to the sides, and a long nose, which hooked up a little at the end. Her skin, greenish, was covered by what looked like an ironed pillow case, the hogwarts crest embroidered in one corner. She has a strange, motherly, bustling air about her, and Harry was sharply struck with her resemblance to the muggle goblins he had seen in Dudley's picture book once. He withheld a grin. Cedric, however didn't. Bowing down slightly to look at the creature, he exclaimed "Hoggle! It is so nice to see you again. I hope your baby is doing well?"

Hoggle smiled, and replied in a high, squeaky voice, "Master Cedric! Yes, she is. So kind of you to ask, so kind". She turned then to Harry.

"Master Cedric is always so polite. I am Hoggle, a kitchen elf. May I help you sir?"

Harry stumbled over his words, bemused as he was with the scene before him. "Yes, um, please. I would like some food, if that is possible? Um...". He trailed off, and Cedric took over, asking for two hot chocolates and a plate of biscuits. Hoggle hurried off, and Cedric and Harry sat, facing each other, on one of the long tables.

"Long time, no see, Harry".

Harry smiled ruefully. "Yeah. Sorry, it's a bit crazy, you know, magic school and all that. Plus the homework Snape sets alone, nevermind McGonagall..."

Cedric laughed. "Just wait a bit Harry, it will only get worse as you get older. The potions homework now makes first year look like... well, like Snape was actually being nice!"

They laughed, and then accepted the biscuits and drinks off Hoggle. Harry blew across his as Cedric continued to talk, occasionally answering his questions. Harry himself was not a big talker, but it looked like Cedric was more than happy to fill in any awkward gaps.

As they were talking, the portrait swung open, and in climbed another boy, who looked shocked to see them.

"Diggory. Evans."

"Malfoy". Cedric inclined his head respectfully, but his tone was a little chillier than it had been to Harry.

"Hiya Draco! Come and sit down and have a hot chocolate. We were just talking". Cedric looked at Harry a bit incredulously, but Draco was already heading over, looking a bit incredulous himself. Hoggle quickly popped up, and handed Draco a mug of hot chocolate, cream swirled, in what looked like a very specific way on the top. Draco muttered a very quick and quiet "thank you" to the elf, then looked around guiltily, as though he expected the others to make fun of him for it. Cedric's eyebrows went up a smidge.

"What did you think of that last essay, Draco? The five uses of billywig wings in medical potions? I have 4 but the fifth is eluding me rather, and I am not entirely sure where else to look..."

"Laughing potion" Draco and Cedric chimed in at the same time. At Harry's look of confusion, Draco sighed (a smidge over dramatically in Harry's opinion) and explained: "laughing potion, in it's very mild form, can be used to treat depression. Therefore it's classed as a medical potion, although that has been some what contended- it was only in 1973 after all that it was first used, and its side effects can be-". He trailed off. "Sorry, was i lecturing? Mother says I can come across rather overbearing for people not used to it"

"No, it's fine" Cedric- surprisingly- interrupted. "Go on. You were saying about the legislation and side effects? I must admit that potion laws have never been my strong point." Giving him a thankful glance, Draco continued, with Cedric interrupting occasionally to ask questions. Harry sat back, satisfied, letting their voices wash over him, until "Merlin Beard!" Draco looked at his watch and jumped up, interrupting his flow on the various laws over calming draught. "It's almost curfew! Snape will skin me alive if I'm late again!" He downed the rest of his cup, leaving a chocolate moustache residue, and ran out of the kitchen.

Cedric faced Harry. "He is not what I was expecting, at all."

Harry wrinkled his forehead thoughtfully. "He was a bit less cocky than normal. Maybe he couldn't be bothered to pretend?"

"Maybe. He's right though, it is almost curfew, I had better get gone."

"At least you don't have to face the wrath of an angry Percy Weasley" Harry shuddered in mock horror, "I think I still have nightmares".

Laughing, they separated and walked up towards their respective towers. Harry was in a blissful daze; two of his friends had met and got along, and he was sure his hot chocolate must have had a little bit of calming draught in it, regardless of what Draco said the laws were. He stumbled up the stair, a left, a right, another right, and straight on from the painting of the widows- until he was in a part of the castle he had never seen before. Edging forward, he shimmied the lock on the door, frowning as it gave way. He opened it, carefully, and stepped inside. There was a quiet sound being given off by something in the room, almost like a boiler, but it was too dark for Harry to see. Suddenly, something wet on his shoulders. He looked up, and came face to face, or rather nose to teeth, with a massive looking, three headed dog. Harry screamed, ran for the door. The dog was snapping at his heels, and tore some fabric off his trousers, narrowly missing his leg, just as Harry shut the door.

"M-mr Evans. W-what are y-you doing here at t-this time of night?" Harry's brain scrambled for an answer, deciding on the truth. "I was lost, Professor. I didn't mean to-"

"What-," drawled a low voice from behind him. Harry gulped. "-Exactly is going on here?"

"P-professor Snape! I had just a-apprehended this y-young man..."

"I see. Well, I shall take him from here. Goodnight, Professor Quirrel" Snape said the last bit with a curl of his lip, and watched as Quirrel turned and quickly walked away, before swooping upon Harry.

"What were you doing here, Mr Evans? The truth."

"I was telling the truth, sir! I was lost, I didn't know where I was..."

"And you just happened to use Alohomora on the door, I suppose?"

"No sir, it was unlocked, I swear!"

Snape looked down at Harry. "Unlocked?"

"Yes, sir."

The Professor looked back at the door, jaw clenching slightly. He turned away, cloak billowing and indicated Harry to follow him.

"Sir, there's something odd about Quirrels stutter, it's not quite-"

Snape continued to stride forward, Harry struggling to catch up at his side. "Evans. I want you to listen to me very closely. Do not investigate that door. Do not even think about that door. It is incredibly important- more than you may realise now."

Harry nodded. He looked down the corridor they were walking- it was no where near the gryffindor tower.

"Sir? Where are we going?"

"My office" Professor Snape replied curtly. "That damned dog seems to have got your leg, and we cannot show matron that injury."

Harry looked down in shock to see blood dripping down his leg. Apparently he was not as lucky as he had thought. "Ow."

"Indeed."

Snapes office was much what Harry expected: dark furniture, books, and potion vials took up most of the space. There was an imposing desk which a chair, one softer looking, one hard on each side. Snape motioned for Harry to sit on the softer chair, and handed him two potions, blue and lilac. "Pain reliever and calming draught, sir?"

Snape inclined his head. "Good, Evans. Now hold still." He pointed his wand at Harry's leg, and Harry felt it go cold, and then very, very hot. He reached down to touch it, and found the wound had completely sealed over.

"Stay." Snape handed Harry another potion, though this one was in a much larger vial. "This will prevent any infection. Drink it slowly. Whilst you are doing that, I have something to show you." Turning away, Snape open one of the draws and withdrew an envelope. He opened it carefully, and then withdrew, what looked to Harry like a piece of paper. Snape paused for a minute, and seemed to consider it, before spinning back around and handing Harry a photo.

It was old, and muggle, the edges curling and colours muted, but it didn't matter. Harry could still make out the fire truck red hair of the girl in the photo, could still see her jewel like eyes. She was spinning, hair whipping around and mouth open, laughing. The photo was a muggle one, frozen, but to Harry, she looked alive, one blink away from being in front of him. "Mum..."

He traced a hand over her hair, tried to laugh with her, even as his tear fell on to the paper. He swiped at them furiously. "Thank you, sir."

Snape came and looked over his shoulder, face softening at the photo. "You are welcome, Harry."


End file.
